


Just a Taste II: Trafficking

by Viridian5



Series: Just a Taste [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-10-16
Updated: 1998-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Krycek decides to stop wasting time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Taste II: Trafficking

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Sleepless."
> 
> Thanks to (in order of response) Orithain, Ann Vanderlaan, Rye, and Feklar for answering my beta call. With a larger pool of talent to draw from, I hope to avoid wearing my beta experts down so quickly.
> 
> 11/30/00 - The ancient, peeling Eagle Electronics sign ("Perfection is Not an Accident") that sat atop a warehouse building near the Queensboro/59th Street Bridge and was featured here doesn't exist anymore. The thing looked interestingly decrepit even when I was a kid about 30 years ago, and now it's just gone, replaced by a standard billboard for hire that doesn't have half its character.

After waiting to get on the 59th Street Bridge for 20 minutes, my nerves were seriously shot. In that time, we'd moved maybe an eighth of a mile. Worse, I'd had to turn the air conditioning off 15 minutes ago when the heat gauge started to spike and the engine started making ominous noises. All this left me steaming hot and furious.

Agent Krycek dozed in the passenger seat, managing to look sweet and almost comfortable. After all the things that bastard had done in the past few days to make me uncomfortable, he had a hell of a nerve. I still couldn't think about the melting chocolate incident without feeling dirty and manipulated. And desperately horny.

And confused. I still didn't know if he'd really intended the chocolate incident as a taunting come-on, or if my paranoia was been playing games with my mind. I still didn't know if he was a spy or not, and wondering if he really wanted to get into my pants didn't make my life any easier. Tackling reasons why he might be making passes at me if he _were_ a spy...

My headache took on a pounding quality.

I went back to staring at the ancient sign on our right for Eagle Electronics. "Perfection is not an accident," it said. We'd been sitting there so long I'd taken to counting the paint peels coming off it. I hit 400 just as the news station Krycek had suggested we tune the radio to started its "traffic and weather on the fives." The report mentioned traffic just about everywhere other than where we were.

Krycek smirked. "1130 AM is still ignoring the Queensboro Bridge. I could never figure that out." He looked sleepy-eyed and lush and... Oh, stop it. I kept getting caught between the urges to jump him and kill him.

I counted to ten in three languages before I asked, "If you didn't think they would mention our bridge, why did you suggest I turn it on?" No one could tell me it wouldn't be justifiable homicide. A jury only had to take one look at those long lashes and sulky mouth to get me off on self-defense.

Get me cleared, not get me-- Oh, shit.

"Sometimes they do, and it might have been nice to know what's holding us up. Are we late for the meeting yet?"

"We will be in 15 minutes."

He unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched. "There's nothing we can do about this now. Why get upset over it?"

"There are so many other things we could be doing right now. Instead, we're doing nothing, and it's not even a fun nothing."

"So this is a waste of time, and you hate that."

I heard pleasure in his voice as he accepted this new piece to the puzzle that was Spooky Mulder. Once again, he showed behavior that would be consistent for both the spy _and_ the hero-worshipping kid. Damn him.

I was tired of playing games. "Got it in one."

"I don't like wasting time either." He moved closer and, with a speed I could only guess came from long practice, undid my pants.

I had to be hallucinating; the heat had fried my brain. "What the hell are you doing?" My voice came out as a rasp, with a slight tone of near-hysteria making it higher than usual.

"I decided to stop wasting time." Then his head went down into my lap. As he tended to my cock much the same way he had slowly sucked melted chocolate off his fingers yesterday, I could at least comfort myself with the knowledge that this was as unambiguous as you could get.

I had helplessly imagined how his mouth would feel--it turned out to be hotter and wetter than I'd imagined. My hands clutched the wheel white-knuckled, my head went back, my eyes closed. I tasted blood as I bit my lip to hold back the moans. We were in a very public place, surrounded by other people in their cars, all of us with open windows. I fought the urge to grab his hair and bring him in closer, partly out of fear of what that gesture would mean and partly out of fear of what overheated hair gel would feel like.

Orgasm hit me like a hammer, nearly making me black out as I thrust over and over into his avid mouth. It was a good thing for him he managed to keep my hips pinned back a bit, because I had been brought past the point of being able to consider such niceties.

Finally, he pulled back into his own seat. Dark eyes regarded me from under darker lashes. His lips were wet with me. He licked them. I shuddered and put myself back together.

"There's almost a car-length open in front of us," he said huskily. I lightly hit the accelerator with more finesse than I thought myself capable of at the moment.

"Why?" I asked.

"I wanted to since I first saw you." Then he started to look less sensual and more nervous. "It's okay, right?"

I couldn't think of a good way to answer that. "Everything's fine," I said softly, in case he was simply an impetuous kid with a crush and not a manipulative spy using one of the oldest weapons in the world.

Now, more than ever, I had to find out.

### End


End file.
